While the chief lords under Aegon II racked their wits over how to raise banners and secure allies, the armies of the Riverlands had already turned their eyes south.
A silver trout leaping across red and blue stripes, the banner of House Tully. Quartered beside it, the sigil of Queen Rhaenyra.
Beneath those two banners, the river knights rode for King's Landing.
Elmo Tully summoned the riverlords once more and marched at the head of six thousand men toward the capital. It was a host already large enough to rival the strength of the Stormlands army, even when counted together with the levies Borros Baratheon had wrung from the Crownlands.
Elmo Tully, like his grandsire Grover before him, was no great warrior. He did little to improve House Tully's already middling martial reputation.
Fortunately, his two sons, Kermit and Oscar, were of a different sort. Fierce and reckless, they burned to prove their valor.
As the Riverlands host advanced south, ravens flew ahead with word of their march.
In the outer yard of Dragonstone, Rhaena was feeding her young dragon.
The Cannibal lay nearby, vast as a black mountain, while Aegon rested a hand upon the crown of its snout, his powerful and violent companion.
Dawn's flame burned pink, threaded through with darker light that shimmered across her scales.
Servants brought forth a great platter of roasted mutton.
"Eat," Rhaena said, setting Dawn down.
The hatchling hissed softly as sparks crackled along her jaws. She tore into the meat eagerly, breathing out small flickers of flame between mouthfuls.
Dawn was likely a she dragon. She lacked the Cannibal's raw and murderous aggression. She was friendly toward Aegon as well, though in a reserved fashion. A dragon bound only once.
Aegon watched her eat with open delight. The Cannibal, by contrast, retained its pride. If it could take food for itself, it would never accept offerings from men. It preferred prey won by claw and flame, wild cattle and deer taken from the forests. Fish it would eat if it must, but never gladly.
That was just as well. Otherwise, the Cannibal would have stripped Dragonstone bare.
Aegon's hair and brows had grown back. His short silver hair was pale as frost, his violet eyes deep and dark. The gloom that once clung to him had vanished, replaced by vigor and quiet confidence.
Since taming the Cannibal, he felt himself changing. His body had grown stronger, his features sharper, his presence more commanding. He had grown taller, more handsome. If this continued, he might truly become the greatest heart stealer in Westeros.
He is killing the boy within him, Rhaena thought, and taking on a man's burden.
She remembered the knights of the Vale who had once fawned over her. Set beside her brother now, they seemed shallow and crude, worlds apart.
"Your Highness, Lord Elmo Tully's letter," Ser Harrold said, hurrying forward.
The two hundred seasoned knights of the Vale under Harrold's command had fully secured Dragonstone. The island was calm. Its people had never risen in treason against the queen or her children. They would follow any dragonrider. In the original course of events, the garrison had held fast only out of fear of royal vengeance after the queen's death.
"How fares the island?" Aegon asked.
"All is well. Most do not yet know you have claimed the Cannibal, but Dawn's hatching alone has won many hearts. Dragonstone has always welcomed dragons and those who ride them."
"Hold steady," Aegon said. "King's Landing is watching the Riverlands. We will strike when the Greens least expect it."
In his heart burned a fierce resolve. Borros Baratheon, that witless stag, would die. Only the hand that struck him had yet to be chosen.
Aegon read Elmo's letter, then passed it to Rhaena.
"He is terrified by Aegon II's brutality," Aegon said. "He fears the fate of Rosby and Darklyn. He sees those houses as his own future."
"The Riverlands rarely stand united," Rhaena said wryly.
Indeed, the Riverlands were infamous for disunity. That they now marched as one spoke volumes of how deeply the Green queen and her son had frightened them.
The Conqueror's system, setting the small against the great, had been a masterstroke. The Riverlands and the Reach alike were bound by it.
House Tully itself possessed little that inspired true loyalty. It had no overwhelming might, no vast wealth, no ancient bloodline to command awe. Its strength lay only in early allegiance and in being nonthreatening.
In land, the Brackens, Blackwoods, Vances, and the rising Freys rivaled them. In blood, House Mallister stood higher. In wealth, they could not match Harrenhal or Maidenpool.
"And all thanks to the Greens' policy of no mercy," Aegon said.
"And our mother…" Rhaena hesitated. The Greens' cruelty differed little from Rhaenyra's own excesses. Tyland Lannister's torment in Black custody was proof enough.
"Let Lady Jeyne try to restrain her," Aegon said. "She is the true iron woman. Our mother is old. It is time she learned to let go."
Aegon felt no filial sentimentality. Power in Westeros could not be borrowed. As Prince of Dragonstone and a dragonrider, he would hold it himself.
Rhaenyra's life had been too smooth, too indulged. Lady Jeyne, by contrast, had carved her path through blood and storm.
"I will push for reconciliation," Aegon continued, "but evil must be punished. The initiative must remain with us. Mercy without justice satisfies no one."
The steel in his voice was unmistakable.
"The future must rest in our hands. Westeros is a shattered ship. It cannot endure endless chaos."
Rhaena and Ser Harrold both agreed.
Aegon found his thoughts drifting to his brother Viserys. Trusted hands were rare. His brother, nearly sold into a Lysene brothel, was beyond price. The war had to end swiftly so he could be ransomed back.
He had not told the queen. She would only make matters worse. When the fighting ended, he would go to Lys himself.
"No matter what, I will stand with you," Rhaena said, taking his hand.
"Our guest should be arriving soon," Aegon replied.
Harrold bowed and went to receive him.
A young man entered the yard clad in plain silver clothing, though his sigil was anything but modest. A silver seahorse on sea green proclaimed his Velaryon blood for all to see.
Alyn and his brother Addam shared silver hair and violet eyes inherited from their mother, Marilda. Smaller and quick, Alyn was a handsome youth, though short, unable to match the height of the Targaryen siblings.
"Cousin," Alyn said lightly, "I had heard Prince Aegon was courteous. Yet no formal welcome. How rude."
Then he saw the dragons.
Not one, but two.
He knew of Dawn. But the other, scales black as endless night, vast as a hill, horned and monstrous, lay there like a slumbering god and allowed the silver haired boy to touch its head.
"Th--the Cannibal…" Alyn stammered, his face draining of color.
"How do you like the gift, Cousin Alyn?" Aegon smiled. "You are meeting my Cannibal."
"That is… that is your dragon?" Alyn already knew the answer, yet still could not believe it.
The Cannibal's eyes opened. Fire sense stirred. Its sickly green pupils fixed upon Alyn as sulfurous smoke curled from its nostrils.
It was ready to kill. The small man before it looked edible enough.
Terror flooded Alyn. He remembered the day Sheepstealer had nearly burned him alive, saved only when Addam arrived upon Seasmoke. The Cannibal's presence was far worse. Older. More savage. More hateful.
"Easy," Aegon said, pressing his chest lightly against the dragon's snout. "He is one of us."
The Cannibal snorted and sank back into sleep.
"I have admired few men in my life," Alyn said bitterly. "I once thought myself blessed by the seven. But it seems i was just a frog in the well."
This was the Cannibal, an eighty year old tyrant among dragons, whispered to be the Black Dread reborn.
Alyn had tried to claim a wild dragon. He knew the danger.
And yet the king of wild dragons had been tamed by a child not yet ten years of age.
Aegon's legend had already begun.
And it was a tale Alyn knew he would never rival.
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A/N:
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